They are like all the others, playful, merry and pure, I watched them as they fought with one another, some trying to intervene, some shouting to stop. I watched the boy from the front row on the second column stood up and lead them in prayer for the end of the day and another boy from the back row on the fifth column do the same, giving thanks for their lunch(whether they had any or not). A lunchbox would feed 5 of them. Their enthusiasm for learning echoed across every "Finished, teacher!" as they raised their tiny hands, impatient for their turn. "Good morning, teacherrrr," was what I looked forward to during those days. It was brief, too brief, in fact. But I am just beginning to learn.
Yet, I could not help but wonder about their future. What will they become? Who will they become? I am very much interested. I want to know. I want to connect. I ..want to help.
They are very young to remember an insignificant girl coming to their class but the eldest was fifteen and I have high hopes. I wouldn't just leave a thread hanging. It would be most careless.
Voices- they are calling.
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